


Capes and Cowls #6

by Vigs



Series: One Multiverse Over [12]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: (But she became disabled in a different way), And a little bit of, Canon Disabled Character, F/M, Fake Marriage, Gen, Identity Porn, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Multiplicity/Plurality, Original DC reboot, sorry this has a million tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-10-29 23:52:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17817893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vigs/pseuds/Vigs
Summary: Batman and Catwoman have almost managed to build a functioning relationship when Talia al Ghul unexpectedly shows up with a proposal that Batman may not be able to refuse.





	1. Bruce

The hall Bruce had rented for the gala was spacious, beautifully decorated, and perfectly air conditioned. The owners had been keeping the AC on full blast to combat the late summer heat, but he'd made them turn it down a bit; it wasn't fair to keep things at a temperature where all the men in their tuxedos would be comfortable, but the women in their summer gowns would be freezing.

Although most of the guests didn’t realize it, little things like that were the reason people enjoyed Bruce’s parties so much. He went to a great deal of trouble to make sure all the guests would be comfortable, with plenty of different dietary options for food, equally wide selections of cocktails and mocktails, and private rooms set aside for anyone who found the crowds too much. Even if he didn't care about accommodating people for their own sake, it was well worth the investment; it meant that his fundraisers were always extremely well-attended, and everyone was in a good mood to sign a great deal of money over to whatever cause he was promoting.

On this particular evening, the cause was a series of needle exchange centers. The pilot center in Gotham had worked very well, serving both as a place for addicts to get clean needles and a place where they could connect with a social worker or a doctor if they chose—no requirements, just availability. Obviously there was no way to know exactly how many lives it had saved, but the guest of honor was a recovered addict who felt that the center had saved his life.

It wasn't the visceral satisfaction Batman got from putting his fist into someone's face, but it was satisfying nonetheless. Bruce had his own pleasures.

Most of the guests had arrived, and nearly all of them were either on the dance floor or had drinks in hand by now. Bruce mingled, distributing greetings and thanks and then moving on to the next group, keeping an eye out for any potential sources of trouble. Sometimes he needed to lead men away from women they were bothering or make sure there was a buffer between business rivals who took things too personally, little things that kept the party pleasant for everyone.

And then, of course, there was Selina: always a potential source of trouble. He smiled when he saw her, pushing the bounds of propriety with the length of the slit up the side of her dark purple dress (it very nearly showed her hipbone), her pixie cut ensuring that everyone could see her cat's-eye earrings. She was deep in conversation with a taller, slimmer, darker-skinned woman who was wearing an unusual sheer cloak-like garment, white tulle with metallic gold trim, over her hair and gown. It was a very striking look... which didn't keep him from noticing the knives she had concealed under her clothing, strapped to her leg and the small of her back. Who the hell would come to one of his events  _ armed _ ?

Hopefully she was there to hurt  _ him _ , not Selina or anyone else. Bruce kept his face affably blank and wandered over to greet them.

"Hello, ladies," he said when he was in conversational range. The tall woman turned, and he only barely managed to hold onto his composure long enough to continue, "Enjoying yourselves, I hope?"

Selina's conversation partner was Talia al Ghul, regal in white silk and gold embroidery, with gold eyeshadow, dark red matte lipstick, and a low cowl neck that would allow her to access another two concealed weapons he hadn't been able to see from behind her. She smiled at Bruce conspiratorially.

"Bruce, this is Talia Zil," Selina said. "She's a friend of mine from an animal rights forum."

Zil: Arabic for "Shadow," as in "Society of Shadows." Subtler than "al Ghul," at least. Someone would probably notice if she introduced herself as "Talia of the Demon."

"We've met, actually," Talia said, perfectly calm. "Bruce has had business dealings with my father in the past."

"Yes, it's lovely to see you again," Bruce said. He would have noticed if there were any other potential combatants in the room, he was sure of it. Was she here alone? "I would have sent you your own invitation if I knew you were in town. What brings you to Gotham?"

"Oh, I've been taking some time to travel," she said airily. "My father can be a bit stifling, you know."

"He did strike me as a bit of a control freak," Bruce said. Did Ra's even know she was here? "No offense."

"None taken," she said with a slightly wicked smile. "If you'll dance with me."

"Don't mind me," Selina said, clearly amused. She must be picking up some of the tension in the air, but probably assumed that they had been lovers. "I'm going to go get another drink. Have fun!"

"Dancing it is," Bruce said, and took Talia's arm to lead her to the dance floor. Not the most secure location for a tricky conversation, but for some reason she'd chosen this venue. At least anyone who saw them whispering under the music would likely make the same assumption that Selina had.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked, putting his arms around her and his mouth almost close enough to her ear to touch—so that they could communicate with some level of privacy, of course.

"I told you that I would visit you in Gotham as soon as I could," she said.

"You said that while you were covering your father's exit, if I recall," Bruce said. He had to stay Bruce; Batman wouldn't be projecting the right body language, the right tone of voice. It was hard, though, with an armed and deadly probable-enemy at such close range. "I may not have been inclined to believe you. Besides, I meant what are you doing here, at this event?"

"I wanted to show you that I could be a part of both your lives, Beloved," she said. "I can mingle with the Gotham elite as easily as I could fight by your side."

"Are you still trying to convince me to marry you?" he murmured, as quietly as he could. If anyone heard Bruce Wayne say the word "marry," it could draw an inconvenient amount of attention. "What are you actually trying to warn me about this time?"

"Nothing," she said. "May I come to your home tomorrow? I will be alone, and invite you to check me thoroughly for weapons and listening devices."

Bruce pulled back slightly to raise an eyebrow at her.

"That wasn't intended as innuendo," she insisted, bringing her lips back to his ear. Another reason Bruce needed to stay in charge; Batman would have found the proximity too distracting. Bruce was used to being pressed up against beautiful women. "I wish to speak with you privately. For all I know, my father is listening at this moment."

"Fine," Bruce said. "Come to the manor at noon tomorrow and we'll talk."

"Thank you," she said, and kissed him on the cheek. The song was ending; a good time for him to go back to his mingling. He kept an eye on her all evening, but she didn't do anything more suspicious than flirt with a businessman Batman suspected had ties to the Falconi family. As she'd said, she fit in here perfectly, working the room with ease. He still didn't know why.

The next day, Batman briefed Robin and Oracle on the situation, ignored their teasing, and put both of them on standby, Robin in the Cave, Oracle in her father's apartment. It was still possible that this was some sort of trap.

Talia arrived promptly at noon wearing jeans and a halter top, the most casual outfit Batman had ever seen her in, unless you counted the  _ shinobi shozoku _ -like uniform of the Society of Shadows. She greeted Alfred politely at the door, who led her to join Batman (he wasn't wearing the suit, but this was definitely a time to be Batman) in the sitting room.

"I bought these clothes when I arrived in Gotham," she told him. "They shouldn't be bugged, but you're welcome to check."

A thorough tool-assisted search, which she didn't turn into an opportunity for flirtation as he'd expected (he was  _ not _ disappointed, he told himself firmly), turned up no weapons and only two pieces of electronics, a cell phone she let Alfred put in one of the manor's disguised Faraday cages and a tracker embedded in her arm.

"He likes to know where I am," she said, a touch bitterly. "But as you can see, the signal is steady. It transmits no information, just a location marker."

Batman nodded. He'd debated putting something like that in Robin, but had decided that the risk that it would be found and cut out of Robin's arm wasn't worth it. (R would have agreed, back in those early days when he was all grief and determination and hero worship.)

"What are you doing here, Talia?" he asked. "Why make such a production of it?"

"Can we sit?" she asked. They were still standing face to face, the position he'd been in when he finished the search. "It is a complex subject."

Batman nodded and sat across from her impatiently, crossing his arms.

"My father's mind is going," Talia said once she'd made herself comfortable on the settee. "He is in no state to manage an international covert society, but he still has no chosen heir."

"Unless I marry you," Batman said. This was all old territory. "I'm not interested in running a cult of assassins, Talia."

"The Society of Shadows is far more than that," she said. "It could be a great force for good, with the right leadership. Specifically, my leadership. But father refuses to see that, set in his ways as he is."

"So you want me to, what, marry you and be your figurehead leader?" Batman asked. "I have things to do."

"Two years," Talia said, leaning forward intently. "Father has agreed that if we marry, he will train you for two years, and then he will stop using the Lazarus pits and let you take over. Then we can divorce and you can pass leadership of the Society to me."

"I can't leave the city for that long," he said.

"I convinced Father that he should respect your drive to protect your city, since that's what brought you to his attention in the first place," she said. "He is willing to teach you from a distance, for the most part. Occasional visits, perhaps. He has a great deal of knowledge and wisdom, despite his instability. You could learn from him."

"So what you're saying is, until Ra's dies we pretend that we intend to remain married and that I intend to run the Society?" Batman asked.

"But truly, we would only need to stay married for two years," Talia said. "That is why I came to your gala; to show you that I could be an acceptable wife for your public persona, at least for a time."

"And why should I believe that the Society of Shadows would be any better under your leadership than Ra's'?" he asked.

"Beloved, I will not pretend that I will adhere entirely to your moral code, but I swear that I will minimize bloodshed," she said earnestly. "The world-threatening plans would cease entirely, of course; I keep coming to you for help stopping him, remember? We will have two years to work out acceptable terms, and father has agreed not to enact any dramatic plans over that time."

"He seems to have agreed to a lot," Batman observed. "Are you sure he'll follow through?"

"I don't believe he expected you to accept, so he was willing to agree to a lot," Talia admitted. "But yes, I do think he will. Even he knows that it is time for him to pass on."

Batman thought hard for a moment. Having Talia in the manor would be a security liability, of course, but she was right about Ra's having things to teach him, and he would prefer her as the head of the Society. It would be a particularly difficult two years, but he had a good deal of assistance now; they could handle it together.

Of course, he would probably lose Catwoman's help. Ra's would certainly notice any "infidelity" on his part, and of course, he couldn't know it wasn't a real marriage. He would lose Selina, maybe forever this time. But removing Ra's as a threat... that was worth a lot.

He had always known he would have to choose between Selina and his mission eventually.

"The two-year time limit would begin as soon as we got married?" he asked.

"The day of our wedding," Talia assured him.

"I'll need confirmation of all of these agreements from Ra's," he warned her.

"Of course." She smiled. "You are considering it, then?"

"We should begin planning as soon as possible," Batman said. "The logistics of the wedding will be challenging."

The way that she smiled and the way that her shoulders sank down from where they'd been approaching her ears indicated genuine relief. Helping her get away from her father wasn't the primary objective, or even among the top five, but it was still important to him. He could only imagine what a nightmare living with Ra’s must be, and hoped that living with Talia wouldn’t prove to be similarly unbearable.


	2. Robin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the irregular posting recently. Real Life has been getting in the way.

Rick had been waiting in the Cave in the Robin suit while B and Talia talked. He and Oracle had both been listening in, of course.

"He's not serious, right?" Oracle asked.

"I think he actually might be," Rick said. He'd always felt kind of bad for Talia—it couldn't be easy having a guy who called himself “The Demon's Head” as a father—but that didn't mean he trusted her as far as he could throw, say, Killer Croc.

"First Catwoman, now this," Babs muttered. "Is he trying to build the world's least trustworthy harem, or something?"

"B's weird about women." It was an understatement. In his civilian life, B had all of these casual flings, or casual in that they were never his girlfriends or anything, but some of them lasted years and years anyway; and then when he was in costume he seemed to be drawn exclusively to women who could, and might, kill him. Rick couldn't even begin to understand it. Sure, having a dozen beautiful friends-with-benefits sounded appealing in theory, but his relationship with Babs was all he really wanted.

"I can take care of the arrangements," they heard B say. "I assume you won't need help with identifying documents?"

"Of course. What do you take me for?" Talia asked, flirtatiously mock-offended.

"Do we keep listening if they start making out?" Babs asked.

"I guess," Rick said unenthusiastically. "In case she takes the opportunity to try to kill him or something."

Fortunately, that did not happen. She left not long after that, and Rick bounded upstairs, still in costume.

"You're not really going to marry her, right?" he demanded.

"I'm really going to marry her," B said calmly. He was sitting on the couch, infuriatingly calm. "It's an opportunity to—"

"Have you lost your freaking  _ mind _ ?" Rick interrupted. He started to pace.

"Ableism," B chided mildly. "I know it will be difficult, but permanently removing Ra's al Ghul as a threat—"

"You can't just get married!" he said, throwing his hands into the air. "Oh my god, B, I thought your thing with Catwoman was bad enough, but this is just... have you run tests to make sure she didn't drug you or anything?"

"I'm not in love with Talia," he said. "The marriage is a means to an end."

"So you're actually for real inviting a supervillain's daughter, someone who has betrayed you multiple times before, come and live with us?" Rick asked.

"Talia is a complex person, but I've come to understand her," B said. "This is a legitimate offer."

"She's going to kill us in our sleep," Rick said bluntly. "Or poison us, or at the very least spy on us!"

"Unlikely," B said. "She wants leadership of the Society. If I die, she has no path to achieving that goal."

"She could still kill  _ me _ ," Rick said. "And she could mind-control you or something!"

"It's been decided," B said with finality. "We'll need to figure out how to provide a reasonable level of security for the wedding, given that I'll be occupied. It shouldn't take more than a month to make the arrangements."

"You're marrying her in a  _ month _ ?" Rick repeated. He stopped his pacing to stand and face Bruce, disbelieving.

"Too many people would be offended if we had only a courthouse wedding," B said. "Important people who can make my life difficult if they choose. Including her father, I'm sure. A month is the minimum time to arrange something appropriately celebratory."

"Fine," Rick said, slumping onto the chair across from Bruce. B had made up his mind, and when he did that, there was no unmaking it. All Rick could do was minimize the fallout. "Fine. But you're not telling her about Babs, at the very least. We've got to keep at least one secret in reserve."

"More than one, certainly," B said. His expression changed subtly, compassion replacing stubbornness. Rick had noticed that before; as soon as he gave in to whatever absurd plan B had made, B would suddenly start caring about his feelings and trying to reassure him. "We have a month to beef up security around the mansion and the Cave. We can focus on securing your room, if that will help."

"Not sure we can set up a security system Talia won't be able to break through," Rick muttered. "But yeah, fine. Although she'll still be able to just roll over and smother you with a pillow—"

"We're not going to  _ sleep _ together," B said, sounding horrified—as if Rick hadn't seen him make out with Talia on at least one occasion. "Rick, this is her chance to get out from under the thumb of her abusive father. I'm not going to make her pay for that opportunity with sex."

"Oh, yeah?" Rick asked skeptically. "Does she know that, 'Beloved'?"

"Of course she does," B said dismissively. "We're both perfectly aware that this is a transaction, not a real marriage. But it does have to be a real wedding. I think we're going to have to say that you were going to be my best man, but got sick the day of the event, so that you can be there as Robin and keep an eye on things."

"In case this is all a double-cross?" Rick asked. "I don't think I can take the whole Society of Shadows alone, B."

"I doubt it is," Bruce said. "But Bruce Wayne's wedding is going to be a major event, particularly when it's happening in such a rush. It would be an excellent opportunity for a criminal who wants attention, and we have more than our fair share of those in Gotham. And there's no room for mistakes."

"Oh, holy shit," Rick realized, putting his head in his hands. "If anything does happen, the Society of Shadows is going to kill, like,  _ everyone _ ."

"Probably not  _ everyone _ ," Bruce said drily. "But yes, I assume Ra's will want to attend, and they'll prioritize his safety over anything else."

"B, are you seriously sure you want to do this?" Rick asked one last time, looking B dead in the eye. "I mean, Ra's al Ghul is going to be your father-in-law. That's like... I can't even think of a comparison for what that's like."

"Talia isn't a bad person," Bruce said. "I think that, under the right circumstances, she could be a very good person. I'm positive this is the right course of action. If you want, I can get you an apartment in the city so that you don't have to share a house with her."

Rick considered this seriously for a moment—security concerns aside, having his own place would be pretty freaking sweet—but shook his head.

"I need to be near the Cave," he said. "Otherwise I’d have to go back and forth all the time. It would be way too conspicuous. And if she does want me out of the way, that would make it easier for her to do it with plausible deniability. I want to be right here to keep an eye on her."

Bruce nodded.

"Hey, you're gonna do a pre-nup, right?" Rick asked. "Because I mean, you're actually  _ planning _ on getting divorced, so..."

"Of course," B said. "I'm sure we can convince Ra's that it would be suspicious if we didn't, which is true."

"Make sure there are no circumstances under which she gets custody of me, okay?" Rick said. "I know I'm not going to be a minor for much longer, but like... no way."

"I'll make sure," B promised.

"She's going to be my stepmom," Rick said, disbelieving. "I mean, legally speaking and all. Hey, is she going to take your name, or is she going to be, like, Talia al Ghul-Wayne?"

"We didn't discuss it, but I assume she'll take my name," Bruce said, amused. "’Ra's al Ghul’ is a title, not a name. She's been going by Talia Zil, but I doubt that's her real name, or that she's particularly attached to that alias."

Rick nodded, thinking. The "stepmom" thing was weird for multiple reasons. He didn't often think of B as his dad, even though he was, technically or legally or whatever. When he was a kid, he'd been adamant that B was not his parent because no one could replace them. Still true, obviously, but B could be like... a third parent, or a second dad, or something. The idea didn't bother him as much as it used to.

"Hey, while you're like... making your lawyers do stuff, you think they could put in a name change for me?" he asked. "Just because, like, I  _ am _ going to be moving out before too much longer, and it'd be nice to... I dunno. 'Rick Grayson-Wayne' sounds better to me than it used to. Or 'Wayne-Grayson'? Oh, shit, I think that only sounds better to me because that's the name of one of the guys who voiced the Ninja Turtles. I'd say make it my middle name if that wasn't already, you know, my dad's name, but I guess I could have two middle names. Then I wouldn't have to advertise that I was adopted by a billionaire, like,  _ all _ the time—"

He was cut off by B hugging him. This was not a particularly frequent occurrence.

"We can figure out the details," B said. "Of your name and of... this thing with Talia. We'll make it work, together."

"You sound like an after-school special," Rick said, but he hugged him back.


	3. Catwoman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CN: fairly explicit sex (although not as explicit as it's been in other issues), unhealthy relationship dynamics

It had been a month since Batman had given her—well, had given Maven to give her—a communicator. Selina tried not to think about the fact that this sort of made her part of a team. She wasn't exactly a team player. But she'd spoken a little to Robin, who was adorably suspicious of her, and to Oracle, this computer expert woman she hadn't even known about before. Selina had been a little jealous about this at first, but had dropped a few catty comments—what, she could play to type—and Oracle's reactions were horrified enough that Selina was pretty sure she wasn't sleeping with Batman. Actually, she'd seemed so put off by the idea that she might've been his sister or something, a theory which Selina carefully did not mention. If Batman thought she was fishing for intel on his identity, he might break this whole thing off.

She wasn't sure if she really wanted to know. It would be nice if he trusted her that much, but the mystique, the mystery... well, you couldn't have everything.

Some nights, she listened in on them, although it was pretty clear that there were channels she didn't have access to. The main one was open to her, though, and there was a private one that only connected her and Batman.

"How private?" she asked suggestively when he told her this.

"Oracle could listen in if she wanted to," he said. "She runs the system. I doubt she wants to, though."

So now they actually talked to set up their next rendezvous. Not as exciting as leaving her window unlatched and not knowing whether those strong hands would wake her up, but again: trade-offs. The mystique was great, but she had to admit that it was nice to be able to plan ahead.

Plus, sometimes he even called her in on a mission, and that was better than nice. She was getting a steadily increasing trickle of work as a security consultant, but it wasn't the same as being able to take to the rooftops whenever she wanted.

(Sometimes she felt like she was becoming a tame cat, his pet cat, only allowed outside under close supervision so that she wouldn't get into any trouble. Those were the times she'd turn on him; she'd gotten to know him well enough, now, to know what words would hurt him more than any physical blow, making digs about how he wasn't doing any good really, he was just hitting people for the fun of it. She may be a pet cat, but she wasn't declawed.)

He’d also given her an amulet that he said would counteract some kind of magical paranoia that came along with Scarecrow toxin now. She wouldn’t have believed a word of it if she hadn’t felt the effects when she put it on. Now she kept it tucked into her cleavage most of the time, and she left the communicator in her ear most nights, even if her only plan was to sit at home and read, like tonight.

"Catwoman," came his voice in her ear, and it was sort of adorable how he never called her "Selina" over the comms, like there was still a secret to hide. "Are you there?"

"I'm here," she said. "Do you need me tonight?" She only put a little bit of flirtatious stress on "need," in case he needed her for something crimefighting-related and Robin was on the line.

"We need to talk," he said. "Your place after patrol?"

"Ooh, sounds serious," she teased, although in truth her heart was pounding. That could mean anything--he'd finally decided to tell her who he was, he'd finally decided that he really didn't trust her and didn't want to see her any more, anything.

"It is." And that didn't exactly put her nerves at ease. Ugh, he made her feel like a teenager sometimes. "I'll see you tonight."

Through sheer force of will, she made herself calm down enough to get some sleep before he showed up. She ought to be rested for something "serious."

"Selina," he said, and it was disorienting to wake up to his voice saying her name instead of his hands on her. "Wake up."

She yawned and stretched luxuriously, but noticed with some concern that he was in full uniform still, and that as far as she could tell, he didn't even look at the cleavage exposed by her stretching in a skimpy nightgown.

"I'm up," she said. "What did you want to talk about?"

"It's..." He made a frustrated noise. "I can't tell you the full circumstances. I want you to know, I have come to trust you more. You've proven that I can trust you. This isn't about that."

"Okay..." she said slowly. "What is it about, then? And for that matter, what is 'it'?"

"I can't sleep with you anymore," he said bluntly. "It's not anything you've done, it's not that I don't want to, it's... circumstances. I'm sorry."

"What?" She sat up more fully, teasing him forgotten. "You  _ can't _ ? Is there someone else? Because you know I don't—"

"I know," he said, cutting her off. "It's not... exactly that."

"Did someone cut your dick off or something?" That would be weird, especially since he should be in the hospital, but of course he would go on a full patrol and then come by to see her right after getting his dick cut off.

"No. I'm sorry, I would tell you if I could, but I can't." He took a deep breath, let it out. "You can still work with me, if you'd like. But no more sex."

"You think you can resist me?" she asked, trying for teasing but hearing her voice come out more petulant.

"For this, yes," he said. "I'm sorry."

"Well." Would she still want to work with him without the sex? Maybe. Probably. It was still exciting. She was going to be really mad at him, though, when the reality of what he was saying sank in. Two years in prison, and then less than four months together, and now it was over? "These circumstances you mentioned, have they already started?"

"Not exactly," he said warily. "It's complicated. Why?"

"Breakup sex," she said bluntly, sitting up and pulling her nightgown over her head. "You owe me that much, at least."

"I probably shouldn't," he said, sounding conflicted. She could work with conflicted.

"We've had lots of good times you probably shouldn't have had," she said sweetly, walking over to him. It was always a thrill being naked while he was fully costumed. "Remember?"

"Of course I remember," he said, his voice deeper, rougher.

"And even if you think you can resist me once your mysterious circumstances start, I think experience has proven that you can't when you just 'shouldn't,'" she said, wrapping her arms around his neck. She hadn't known she had a fetish for body armor pressing against her bare skin before she met him. "So you may as well just give in."

He kissed her hard, desperately. His kisses were always intense, especially when he knew he shouldn't be kissing her, but there was something different about this one, like he was trying to memorize her with his mouth. It made his words more real, and she shuddered.

She wanted fast and hard, but he slowed them down, took his time, and it was impossible to miss the fact that he was trying to commit every last moment to memory. It made her want to hurt him, want to mark him; maybe he could leave her, but she would prove that he couldn't forget her. He let her push him down and ride him, and she went hard and fast, scratching at him in a frenzy of desire and anger until his skin was under her fingernails and there were bloody lines on his chest.

The sight of his blood sent her over the edge, yowling in pleasure and fury and drawing it out as long as she could, but eventually she came down from the peak, panting, and he rolled them over, pressing them body-to-body. His blood smeared onto her breasts and he kept giving her those wonderful, awful kisses, like he was savoring her, like he loved her.

"I hate you," she told him spitefully, just to mess up his memory of their last time together. He shouldn't get to treasure it, not when he was the one leaving, him and his "circumstances."

"Do you want me to stop?" he asked.

"Don't you dare," she hissed, holding him to her with her arms and her legs. "Fuck me, you bastard."

When he finally came, it was a quiet, shuddering thing, his face (still in his under-mask) buried in her neck. She could have ripped it off. She didn't.

He stayed inside her for a long moment, then pulled out and turned away. She watched him get dressed, putting his vulnerability away, hiding the marks she'd left under Kevlar, but she knew they were still there.

"I assume you won't want to join me for missions in the future," he said, not looking at her. Oh, right, she had said she hated him.

"I haven't decided yet," she said. "I'll let you know. Or Oracle, I guess. Whoever answers when I call."

He nodded. She almost wanted to tell him that she didn't hate him, not really; almost wanted to beg him to stay, to choose her over whatever goddamn "circumstances" he was choosing. Cats have pride, she reminded herself. Queens don't care when their toms come and go.

But she was only human, and she kissed him one last time before he left.


	4. Bruce

With only a month to prepare, it wouldn't be a real high-society spectacle wedding, but money made many things possible, including pulling together a decent wedding in an absurdly short period of time. The same day he and Talia had come to their agreement ("gotten engaged," though technically accurate, didn't feel right), he had a date set, a venue booked, and invitations in the mail; that night, he broke things off with Catwoman after his patrol. His other frequent partners got handwritten notes in their invitations, expressing his affection for them but explaining that he and Talia had decided that monogamy was the right way to start their marriage off. The next day, with the marks from Selina’s nails stinging on his chest in a way that combat injuries never seemed to, he had an extremely awkward video call with Ra's al Ghul.

("I am a traditional man, Detective," Ra's said at one point. "My daughter is a woman of many talents, but I expect her to be provided for, particularly once you have children. None of this 'working mother' nonsense."

What an  _ asshole _ .)

That was the last day before his engagement became public knowledge, and he used it to find an acceptably ostentatious engagement ring for Talia. The next day, the invitations started arriving, and the Gotham gossip mill started grinding away. Alfred fielded the flurry of phone calls while Bruce concentrated on having his lawyers draw up a pre-nup that would meet both his and Ra's' standards and arranging for decorations, music, catering, and clothing.

He should have realized that Selina would skip the phone call and just show up at the manor. She managed to evade both the paparazzi hanging out on the front lawn and Alfred's implacable politeness by coming in a window, setting off just about every alarm in the Batcave in the process. He was in full-on crisis response mode and halfway into the Batsuit before he realized it was just Selina coming to talk to her friend Bruce, not a hostile incursion, and hurriedly changed back into his day clothes and rushed upstairs just in time to look like he'd been paging through a listing of cake designs the whole time.

"How did—Did you break into my house?" he asked Selina when she sauntered into the room.

"Obviously," she said, brushing it aside as a non-issue. "Bruce, what do you think you're doing? You'd never mentioned Talia to me before, and she'd never mentioned you, and now you're getting  _ married _ ? Is this some kind of Poison Ivy thing?"

"Nothing like that, I promise," he said. "I told you, I've spent time with Talia before. This just... seemed like the right move, and hey, why wait, right?"

"Bruce." She bent to put her hands on his shoulders, forcing him to look her in the eye. "I'm sure you think you're being very noble and all, but I promise, there's nothing wrong with just paying child support. You're not a deadbeat or an asshole if you make sure she and the kid are provided for."

"Selina," he answered, equally serious. "She's not pregnant, okay? It's nothing like that."

"What is it like, then?" she demanded, standing up straight and putting her hands on her hips. "You can't convince me that you're just so in love with her that you can't wait. Is she blackmailing you or something?"

"No," he said. "I'm doing this because I want to. It's just... it's the best thing for me to do right now."

Selina's expression went through a strange metamorphosis: first calculation, then surprise, then suspicion, then bewilderment, and finally anger. She reached for the top button of his shirt and unbuttoned it.

"What are you doing?" he asked, grabbing her wrist. She shrugged him off; he could have kept her from doing that, but he shouldn't have been able to. Bruce Wayne vs. Catwoman shouldn't even be a contest; she should kick his ass in seconds. Two more buttons and the scratches she'd left on him would be visible. He wasn't wearing an undershirt, thanks to his hasty change in and out of the Batsuit.

"Checking something," she said, unbuttoning the next button. One left. "It's just strange, the way some sort of  _ circumstances _ are suddenly pulling you into a monogamous marriage."

Panic rose in him, and Batman demanded to be put in charge, but Bruce pushed him down. This was a situation that needed to be handled with tact and care and some degree of interpersonal skill; a Bruce emergency, not a Batman emergency. Selina reached for the third button and he grabbed her wrist again. This time he didn't let her shake him off.

"Hell of a grip you have," she said sarcastically. "Golf? Tennis? Nocturnal crimefighting?"

He briefly considered denying it, but decided that would only make her more upset. She had him.

"I'm sorry," he said instead, and released her wrist. She threw herself onto the sofa across from him, glaring at him.

"You must think I'm such an idiot," she said. "I never even suspected."

"Of course I don't," he assured her. "I've gone to a lot of trouble to keep anyone from figuring it out."

"Were you ever going to tell me?" she demanded.

"I was afraid to," he admitted. "I'm sure I would have eventually."

"Okay, I am mad at you for about three different reasons, but we can shelve that for now," she said. "More important question: does Talia know?"

"Yes," he said. "Not because I told her and not you, though! She found out."

"So she  _ is _ blackmailing you," Selina concluded. "Okay. We've got to figure out a way to get you out of this."

"She's not blackmailing me," Bruce said. "It really is complicated."

"Explain it," Selina demanded, and he did: the Society of Shadows, their immortal(ish) leader, his absurd misogyny and tendency come up with plans involving massive amounts of destruction, Talia's plan to stop the whole thing.

"So it's only for two years," he concluded. "Then Ra's stops unnaturally prolonging his life, Talia takes control of the Society, and we get divorced."

"You could have told me it was only for two years," she accused.

"I'm a lot more confident in the manor's security than your apartment's," he said.

"Your security sucks," she said dismissively. "I broke in, remember?"

"I let you," he informed her. "I was halfway into the suit when I realized it was you."

"Oh." That took some of the wind out of her sails. "Fuck, I still can't believe it was  _ you  _ the whole time. My good buddy, sweet but boring. Is your whole life just one big charade?"

"It's all me," he said. "Just different sides of me at different times, that's all."

"And Rick is Robin," she realized. "Who's Oracle?"

"She gets to decide who knows who she is," he informed her.

"Fair enough," Selina said with a sigh. "Okay, hang on, I need to do some anger math. I'm not mad at you for never writing or calling while I was in prison anymore, because I guess you actually did. I'm still mad about you dumping me, but less mad because it's actually only for two years and because now I know why. I'm  _ more _ mad than I was about you not telling me who you really were. So that's a net decrease in mad-at-you, I guess."

"Glad to hear it," he said, somewhat at a loss. "Uh, you're not going to—"

"I'm going to tell Maven," she said firmly. "Non-negotiable. But I won't tell anyone else, and neither will she."

"Fine," he said, sighing. "Fine."

Selina, Maven, Talia, Rick, Barbara, Alfred: there were going to be six people in Gotham who knew who he was, and that felt like at least four too many.

"And I will keep working with you," she added. "When you need me, I mean. Unless you think Talia will object."

"Talia won't care," he said. "Ra's might, but as long as we're not going home together it probably won't be a problem. What changed your mind?"

"Oh, I was already leaning towards that," she said. "Working with you is exciting, and I guess makes Gotham better or whatever. And I don't really hate you. I just said that to be mean."

She didn't sound at all ashamed, either of her priorities or of intentionally hurting him. Well, she wouldn't be Catwoman if she was some paragon of virtue.

"I'm glad," he said. It had knocked the wind out of him, to hear her say that she hated him.

"Couldn't you have gotten this over with while I was in prison, though?" she asked, sighing. "That's rhetorical. I get that she only came up with this plan recently. It's just so inconvenient."

"I wish I could have," he said honestly. "And hey, at least you're not the one who's signed up for two years of celibacy."

"Oh my god, you did, didn't you?" she asked, suddenly gleeful with schadenfreude. "Bruce Wayne going two years without sex! Hah! That's hilarious."

"I'm glad you're so amused," he said drily, but he realized that he actually was. It was good to talk about all of this with her, even good to be laughed at. It felt like a knot he hadn't known had been in his chest untying itself: Selina knew who he was, and she still cared about him.

"Talia made friends with me to get to you, didn't she?" she asked, abruptly becoming serious again.

"Probably," he admitted. "Or to try to figure you out. It was definitely a deliberate thing. Sorry."

"That's okay," Selina said, a wicked smirk growing on her face. "I'm pretty sure I know how to get back at her."

"Please don't do or say anything that will make a vengeful army of ninja assassins descend on Gotham," he said, sighing.

"I'll do my best," she said cheerfully, and kissed him on the cheek. "I should get going. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

He felt the pressure of her lips on his cheek—and of the clawmarks under his shirt—long after she was gone. It made it difficult to think about frosting and cake toppers.


	5. Batman

The month leading up to the wedding was one of the busiest of Batman's life. Obviously, he wasn't about to slack off on his patrols just because he was about to get married, and Bruce still had to show up and do some modicum of work at the office, but negotiating things with Talia and Ra's also had to be prioritized.

Selling his allies on the whole idea was also difficult, but fortunately less time-consuming. He let R take a sample of his blood to check for any sort of chemical alteration; he promised Oracle that he wouldn't tell Talia who she was, and then let her make fun of him, which seemed to calm her down; he let Alfred lecture him briefly, but the older man had apparently already resigned himself to going along with Batman's plan, which was fortunate because he could take care of the wedding preparations at least as well as Bruce could.

Negotiations with Talia were generally cordial, but hit some surprising snags.

"But of course I intend to work with you," she said. "Did you think that I would sit around your manor for two years?"

"I assumed you had your own projects to work on," he said.

"Well, certainly I have certain internal matters to attend to in order to assure that when you pass me control of the Society I will have a base ready to accept me," she said dismissively, as if that didn't already sound like a monumental task. "And I will need to continue keeping an eye on my father, through direct contact and through my own agents, to ensure that he doesn't change his mind or break our agreement in any way. But those are both such stationary tasks. You of all people must understand; I can't simply confine my physical activity to a gymnasium for so long."

Batman nodded reluctantly, conceding the point but not the argument.

"Talia, I can't have someone working with me who doesn't follow the same code that I do," he said. "I know you're willing to kill."

"Willing, yes, but hardly compelled," she said. "I can go two years without killing, Beloved."

She still called him that, even now that most if not all of the artifice had been dropped from their interactions. Batman could only assume that it was a habit. Whatever feelings she might have for him, or he for her, were hardly the most salient facts of their relationship at this point.

"I don't think it would be as important to you as it is to me," he said bluntly. "If we're going to work together, it needs to be."

"This is your city and your mission," she said seriously. "I respect that. I will not kill within the bounds of Gotham City, while acting on your orders, or while attempting to further your aims. Not unless I am forced to."

"Define 'forced to.’”

"I won't allow myself to be killed, even for you," she said.

"We'll train together," he said. "I'll make sure you don't have to resort to killing to avoid being killed."

"Fine," she conceded. "I will wait until you decide that I am ready. Don't be too long about it. Will I need some sort of animal-themed costume as well?"

"You will need to disguise your identity," he pointed out. "If people see Mrs. Wayne fighting crime, they might have a few questions. The theming is up to you."

He hesitated. Would it be better to let Talia know that Selina had figured out his identity, or to keep that a secret? He couldn't think of any specific advantage it would give him, but knowing more than your opponent was always a good thing. On the other hand, keeping information from your ally could lead to disaster. Talia tended to flit between the two categories with some frequency.

"Catwoman will be working with us sometimes," he said, deciding that trying to keep Selina from rubbing her knowledge in Talia's face wouldn't be worth the trouble. "She knows who I am."

"I assume you know that your relationship with her—"

"Already ended," he assured her. "She's willing to continue to have a working relationship without having a sexual one, although I'll ask her to keep from mentioning that publicly. It will be advantageous for me if everyone knows that Batman is with Selina Kyle and Bruce Wayne is married to Talia Zil. Or Talia Wayne, rather." The name sounded strange, but he would have to get used to it.

Negotiations with her father were unsurprisingly difficult. Batman let Talia take the lead; this was her plan, after all, and her father.

"You must spend a month in 'Eth Alth'eban to be inducted into the Society," Ra's said. He had hinted at the existence of the hidden city of shadows before, but this was the first time he had confirmed it.

"Most of that month is training," Talia reminded him. "The induction needs to be at 'Eth Alth'eban, but the preliminary training could take place here, couldn't it?"

“What exactly does this ‘induction’ entail?” Batman asked. Talia had been somewhat cagey on the subject.

"Meditation and fasting," Ra's said. "Tests of physical ability and mental endurance. Pain. Learning the deeper secrets of the Society. You already know the greatest one—most new members don't already know about the Lazarus pits—but there are other secrets. An oath of obedience, usually, although I suppose I will make an exception in your case and only require that you swear not to betray me. The ceremonial use of certain mind-affecting substances; nothing addictive or truly harmful. Death and rebirth."

"I'm assuming you don't mean that symbolically," Batman said. He looked sidelong at Talia. She had chosen not to tell him any of these details until he was talking to Ra's, putting him on the spot, and he didn't appreciate it.

"I do not," Ra's said, amused. "Have no fear; we will ensure that you harm no one while you are in the post-revival rage."

"How often do people come back permanently altered?" he asked.

"A few do not come back at all," Ra's admitted. "But that is very rare; perhaps one in a hundred. Otherwise, a single exposure causes no permanent changes. No negative ones, at any rate; you may find yourself feeling a few years younger, or with fewer remnants of old injuries."

"I have been in the pit multiple times, Beloved," Talia said. "It has not changed me."

At least a 1% chance of death, and a difficult-to-calculate chance that the pit did cause permanent psychological alterations in everyone who was exposed to it, and Ra's and Talia were either unaware of this or intentionally misleading him.

Really, with all the mind-altering toxins and magic that were floating around the city these days, he took bigger risks every night.

"I can agree to that, if you give me time to take care of the Scarecrow first," Batman said. "I won't leave for that long while he's terrorizing my city."

"I suppose I can agree to that," Ra's said. "Were you another man, I would suspect that you might intentionally leave your foe at large, but I know you would never stoop to such a thing."

Other points of contention were more personal.

"Two years is an exceedingly short period of time to teach you what you will need to know, particularly if you insist on staying in Gotham and continuing your crusade, but I know that you can rise to the challenge," Ra's said. (Batman winced internally. He'd never asked to be called the "caped crusader," and the term made him uncomfortable at the best of times, but hearing it repeated by a Middle Eastern man really drove it home.) "I have been alive for too long, and I am tired. But I wish to see the face of my first grandchild before I die. That is not an unreasonable requirement."

"Father, you have had more grandchildren than even you can remember," Talia said, exasperated.

"Bastards," Ra's said dismissively. "I expect a child of yours to inherit all that I have built someday."

"But there is no rush," Talia said. "We will have access to the Lazarus pits. Bruce will have plenty of time to settle into his new role, with my assistance, before we have children."

In the end, Ra's grudgingly agreed that he would settle for a medical examination certifying that Bruce was able to have children, so that was another thing to get done before the wedding. Batman was extremely glad that he'd never gotten the vasectomy he'd long contemplated. His sentimental hesitance to take such a serious step to guarantee that the Wayne family would end with him had apparently served him well.

Unsurprisingly, the debate over the prenuptial agreement was the most difficult.

"It is necessary, Father," Talia insisted. "The haste of our wedding is already drawing comment; I will be a target of intense scrutiny and even hatred if we don't do this."

"And since when do you care for the opinions of the unwashed masses?" Ra's scoffed.

"I will be far from home and all but alone," she said quietly. "Will you deny me even the possibility of friendly conversation with other women, Father?"

Batman knew that she was playing up the emotional angle to take advantage of her father's unshakable misogyny. He also knew that what she was saying was true—even more true than Ra's knew, since they were pretending to be marrying out of love rather than an uneasy alliance. Bruce would have to make some sort of effort to introduce her to friendly people.

Ra's tried to insist that sending a servant with her would take care of that problem, an idea that Batman firmly vetoed. Ra’s finally capitulated, as long as Talia would retain sole custody of any children they had in the event of a divorce.

"Adopted children stay with me," Batman said, remembering his promise to R. "But yes, those terms are acceptable." It wasn't as if they'd be having children, anyway.

Ra's also had some impracticable ideas about the ceremony itself. The Society of Shadows was a cult as well as a society, worshiping Ra's as a living god; he presided over marriage ceremonies between its members, at least in spirit. (Apparently, this duty had often fallen to Talia when Ra's was too busy.) In the end, they agreed to have the legally binding ceremony first, with a Justice of the Peace presiding, and to briefly slip away after for a second ceremony, to be performed by Ra's.

Batman did his best to limit the number of Society of Shadows members who would be attending, but was only able to talk Ra's down to a few dozen. He did not like the idea of that many of Ra's' trained killers in the city at once, particularly when he would be both preoccupied and under a great deal of scrutiny, but since this was a transfer of power as well as a wedding, Ra's wanted all the highest-ranking members there to witness it.

Which guaranteed, of course, that if anything went wrong, it would go  _ extremely _ wrong. He got Ra's to agree that, if the Scarecrow was still at large, the Society members would all take fear toxin antidote before the ceremony. At least he wouldn't have to worry about dozens of hardened assassins facing illusions of their worst fears at the same time.

Dealing with the press was Bruce's job. He and Talia came up with a story to explain their "whirlwind romance"; repeated, brief meetings over a period of years, feelings growing every time, until finally she came to Gotham and they both realized that any more time spent apart was time wasted. The gossip rags ate it up. Bruce's now-former partners were more skeptical, but liked him enough to keep quiet, at least. He was lucky that Vicki Vale was too ethical a journalist to dig into the personal life of someone she was (or had been) involved with.

Bruce tried to remember the last time he'd gone an entire year without sex, let alone two. When he was twenty-two and studying at a monastery in the Himalayas, maybe? No, of course not; every few weeks he would join the group of trainees that went into the nearby village for supplies. They spent the night in the village, and he'd only spent a few of those nights alone before Rinchen, the widow who ran the general store, invited him to spend them with her. The walk back to the monastery took a full day, uphill and laden with those goods the monks could not produce on their own, and he'd done most of those walks on very little sleep.

Which meant he hadn't gone a full year without sex since he was fifteen, fully twenty years ago. Well, he'd done more difficult things.

Like a ship growing as it came over the horizon, the wedding began to loom.


	6. Alfred

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for updates being more sporadic than promised recently; real life has been a bumpy ride lately.

Alfred told Master Bruce his opinion of the planned charade of a marriage exactly once.

"It's foolish, overly self-sacrificing, dangerous, and likely to end in disaster," he said. "All in all, it's of a piece with the majority of your decisions."

But when Batman made up his mind—particularly when he made up his mind to do something foolishly self-sacrificing—there was no talking him out of it, and so Alfred concentrated on pulling together an acceptable semblance of a wedding in the absurdly short period of time allotted. Unfortunately, this didn't leave him with enough time to make a thorough assessment of Miss al Ghul's character, but apparently there would be rather more time than he needed for that in the future. He had no intention of ever calling her Mrs. Wayne, unless they were in company that demanded it.

(As for Miss Kyle finding out about Master Bruce's identity—well, the timing was unfortunate, and of course, the further a secret was shared the more risk was involved, but Alfred thought it might turn out to be rather a positive development in the end.)

Master Bruce did his best to contribute to the wedding planning, but the month leading to the event was full of tense negotiations, some between him and Miss al Ghul, some between the two of them and Miss al Ghul's father. As usual, the more mundane details fell to Alfred, and he took care of them quietly and competently.

On the day of the wedding itself, he spent most of his time overseeing the decorations and the cooking, ensuring that the cake and the rings arrived on time, smoothing over a last-minute emergency with the flower arrangements, and generally making Master Bruce's absurd plan possible, which seemed to be his role in life. When the guests began to arrive, he greeted them at the door and took their coats. Normally he would have assigned such a menial task to someone else, but quite a few of the guests on the bride's side had coats that were rather heavier than one would expect, if one was unused to handling garments weighed down by throwing weapons and collapsible staves and the like.

Master Rick, having claimed a bout of unseasonably early influenza, was also watching the entrance from a hidden location. Alfred had one of Miss Barbara's stealth communicators in his ear. (While of course he had the greatest respect for Master Bruce's engineering abilities, Miss Barbara prioritised comfort in her designs considerably more than Batman did, which Alfred appreciated.)

"No signs of trouble yet," Master Rick reported. "Other than the expected trouble, anyway."

Alfred knew what he meant. The bride's side guests were hard-faced or worryingly nondescript men, and a few women, all of whom looked like they had killed before and were prepared at any moment to do so again. He doubted very much that they had given up all of their weapons with their coats. If anything untoward were to happen, always a strong possibility in Gotham, the situation could deteriorate quickly and severely.

"I believe the last of the guests have arrived," Alfred murmured into his own communicator. "I shall keep an eye on things inside."

The people inside were eating hors d'oeuvres, drinking wine, and mingling somewhat cautiously. The Gothamites appeared to be uncertain how to approach the foreign guests, who for their part seemed perfectly content to keep to themselves, throwing disdainful looks at the beverages and having quiet conversations in Arabic.

"Fuck," Master Rick swore. "Purple car pulling up. I think we have some uninvited guests after all."

There was a flurry of conversation in Alfred's ear after that. Apparently the Joker and Dr. Quinzel had decided to take offence at not being invited to the wedding and broken out of Arkham to “crash” it. Master Rick was holding his own, as far as Alfred could tell, largely because Dr. Quinzel had chosen to wear a ballgown and was unable to contribute substantially to the fight. That situation was unlikely to last indefinitely, however; the Joker was a deceptively formidable foe.

Master Rick was in need of assistance. Master Bruce was unavailable and the police were unreliable; Miss Barbara had already placed a call to them, but it would likely be some time before they actually arrived. Alfred scanned the room for Miss Kyle and found her deep in conversation with Miss Maven Lewis and Miss al Ghul. He attempted to discreetly attract her attention, but her focus was entirely on Miss al Ghul, understandably.

"Of course, that was only the second time I had met Bruce," he heard Miss al Ghul say, apparently wrapping up a story. He wondered whether it had contained any elements of truth. "But I was already quite taken with him."

"Well, who wouldn't be?" Miss Kyle asked, her smile all teeth. She was not so much as glancing at Alfred, even though he had moved to a spot behind Miss al Ghul where she should be unable to miss him.

Alfred sighed to himself. Sometimes circumstances demanded that he engage in what would otherwise be unconscionably rude behaviour. He took a decanter of pinot noir from a waiter and walked towards Miss Kyle, who was fortunately wearing a pale blue dress.

"Perhaps we can go on a double date with you and Batman sometime," Miss al Ghul was saying. Miss Kyle didn't seem to know whether to be amused or offended.

"Pardon me, ladies. Might I refresh your drinks?" Alfred asked, then feigned a tumble—difficult to do without causing actual injury at his age, but he managed it, and even managed to do so without a drop landing on Miss al Ghul's wedding dress (which would have been a masterpiece of elegant simplicity were it not for the heaps of gold jewelry she wore with it). The only damage done was to Miss Kyle's dress and to the pinot noir, which was now soaking into it.

"Oh, goodness, I do apologise," he said.

"Alfred?" she asked, surprised. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, certainly," he said. "But I am  _ so _ sorry about your dress. I don't suppose you brought a change of clothing?"

Her eyes sharpened, and she pressed a finger to her ear under the guise of fixing her hair, unobtrusively turning on her communicator. Her eyes widened slightly at what she heard.

"Actually, I did," she said. "Maven, can I borrow your purse? I'll be back in a bit. Nice talking to you, Talia." She rushed towards the restroom, purse in hand, and soon Alfred heard that Catwoman had joined the fight—not a moment too soon, it seemed, as the Joker had temporarily incapacitated Master Rick with his gas and was heading towards the door when Miss Kyle, costume on, landed on his head.

Miss al Ghul looked at Alfred suspiciously, but was of course constrained in what she could say by the public setting and the amount of attention on her, as the bride. She was soon drawn into conversation by the mayor and his wife, leaving Alfred and Miss Lewis to themselves.

"I hope there hasn't been too much trouble," Miss Lewis said.

"Some people attract trouble," Alfred said philosophically, "and if it doesn't come to them on its own, they go looking for it."

Miss Lewis nodded, her brown eyes sharp with intelligence.

"You and I should get together and chat sometime," she said. "I think we would have a lot to talk about."

"I would be honoured," Alfred said. "Excuse me, I must check on the kitchen staff."

The tide of the fight seemed to have turned in favour of Master Rick and Miss Kyle. Alfred returned to ensuring that the more mundane aspects of the reception were proceeding as planned.

It might not be a real marriage, but it was entirely possible that it was the closest thing to a real wedding that Master Bruce would ever have, given his priorities. Alfred would do everything he could to ensure that everything went perfectly.

**Author's Note:**

> I know Talia generally goes by "Talia Head" when she's incognito, but that's a ridiculous name for a Middle Eastern woman, so I picked a slightly less absurd pseudonym for her. (Not that the word "Shadow" in Arabic isn't also a bizarre surname for a Middle Eastern woman, but it'll seem less weird to Americans, and that's who she's trying to fool.)


End file.
